Treasure Hunt
Treasure Hunt
If perchance you go to the park
they call Wilderness
look for the maroon bridge
that spans across
the great divide between
the untamed land of the woods
and the coarse grass land of the prairie;
once you find it step lightly
for it is sore with old age;
go to the middle and you will see
as you gently bend over
its knotty balustrade
dead branches and turtles
nonchalantly floating downstream
and a few feet away from the abutment
under a bed of soggy withered leaves
unprotected – a bulky old chest;
no need for a key, it opens readily
without a squeak of disapproval;
then, if you can entrust yourself
to the veil of oblivion that lingers
within you it may be a sign that
you are ready
ready for the ocean taste of life
ready to reach in and pull out
a silver sailboat all rigged up
its lateen sail bracing
for the racing wind
idly waiting to glide on the
caressing waves of time.
(1987)
Copyright © Anne-Marie Coreggia | Year Posted 2017
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